Empty Nets and Promises by Denzil Meyrick

but who will it be for you?’
    As the windscreen wipers screeched and the engine complained, the looming hills shrank the world until the grey sky was all but obscured. They had entered the Piper’s Pass.

10
    â€˜Looks as though we’re heading for the edge of the bloody world,’ said Marshall, as he wiped the steamed-up windscreen with the back of his hand. ‘I hope you know where we’re going?’
    â€˜Just about on the Piper’s Pass,’ Grant replied. ‘I’ve been here a couple of times, but that’s all. Do you have any idea what they’re doing here, Mr Watson?’
    â€˜Aye, I have that. Geordie McCallum has a croft jeest a bit further on. Keeps some sheep, chickens and the like, grows neeps and cabbages. He’s got a lobster boat, too, down in the bay. I’ll tell you this, you couldn’t find a more isolated spot on the whole peninsula to be up to no good, and that’s a fact.’
    Marshall grinned. ‘Looks as though we’ve struck lucky here. This could well be their base of operations. I wouldn’t be surprised if those two strangers were prospective clients come to sample the wares before they buy. This is just what we were after.’
    Sergeant Grant said nothing as they drove on between the steep hills. He watched a swollen burn charge into a culvert below the road, a riot of white froth and peat-stained water. He’d heard stories about the Piper’s Pass, and though he wasn’t a particularly superstitious man, a shiver ran down his back, making him flinch at the wheel. He’d been dubious about Hoynes’ involvement in an alleged smuggling operation, but he had to concede that something wasn’t right.
    â€˜Can you hear that?’ said Marshall, his head cocked to one side. Despite the rain, he cracked open the passenger window.
    â€˜Will you close that!’ shouted Watson from the back. ‘I’m getting soaked here.’
    â€˜Who would be playing bagpipes in this weather?’ Marshall frowned.
    Looking in his rear-view mirror, Grant caught a look of apprehension cross Watson’s face. ‘I never heard a thing,’ he said nervously.
    Marshall persisted. ‘I know the skirl of the pipes when I hear them.’
    They carried on along the narrow pass in silence.
    All of a sudden the road dipped. They were heading into a broad valley now, the single-track road snaking into the distance under the glowering sky.
    â€˜Nearly there,’ said Geordie. ‘Jeest a few hundred yards now.’ Between a gap in the hills, the grey waters of the North Channel were visible.
    â€˜I widna be happy being oot on the ocean the night,’ said Hoynes, spotting the red corrugated-iron roof of Geordie’s bothy in the distance.
    â€˜We’ll be fine once we get a fire going,’ said Hamish.
    Geordie slowed the vehicle and turned onto a rough path, at the end of which sat a small stone building, abutted on both sides by small wooden structures – barns would have been too grand a name for them.
    â€˜Right, gentlemen,’ he said, pulling up outside the bothy. ‘Here we are, a home fae home.’
    Rather unsteadily, the passengers got out of the vehicle and waited, shivering, while the small man pushed open the door. In the gloom he made his way to a windowsill upon which sat an oil lantern. After fiddling in his pocket for a lighter, he managed to put flame to the wick, and soon the cottage was bathed in a pale, flickering light.
    â€˜It’s a bit gloomy whoot wae these tiny windows. If you give me a couple o’ minutes, I’ll get the other lanterns lit and put a match tae the fire. We’ll be fair toasty in no time.’
    â€˜I see you’ve peat in the fire already, Geordie,’ noted Hoynes.
    â€˜Aye, I always leave it set – even in the summer. You canna beat a peat fire.’
    â€˜It’s just like Brigadoon ,’ said Ralph excitedly,